Chapter Thirteen #2
In fact, she’d only stayed long enough to eat her meal before fleeing the hall and retreating to the chamber she’d been sleeping in. Blayth didn’t go after her, though; once she was gone, Morys began talking and he didn’t shut up until late in the night. After that, it was too late to see to her.
Fortunately, she was up early this morning.
The outer ward sloped downward and it was slippery from the early morning dampness, and Blayth struggled not to slip on the slick mud as he followed Asmara to the stable.
He was far enough back from her that she didn’t hear him, nor did she notice, as she seemed singularly focused on reaching the stable.
Once she disappeared inside the darkened structure that smelled heavily of hay and animals, Blayth came to a halt just outside the door, peering inside to see where she had gone.
He was stalking her.
Inside the stable, he could hear animals stirring as daylight approached.
He could also hear Asmara moving around.
He remained just outside the stable entry, pressed against the wall, hearing her soft voice as she spoke to the horse.
Peering around the corner again, he saw her come forth with her horse, bringing him into an open area of the stable where she could tend to his hoof.
When she tied up the horse and headed back into a corner of the stable to collect a bucket, he made his move.
Blayth knew he had to be careful when he ambushed her because it was dark, and he would startle her, and he didn’t want to end up missing an eye.
So, he moved swiftly and quietly, and came up behind her just as she was bending down to pick something up.
He tapped her on the shoulder and when she gasped and turned around, he threw his arms around her and kissed her.
But it wasn’t just any kiss – it was heated and sexy, and the moment her scent filled his nostrils, it was as if a fire sparked deep inside him.
Asmara’s moment of surprise was quickly replaced by a response that saw her arms wind around his neck as she returned his feverish kiss.
He even heard her giggle, low in her throat, and it fed his lust. Picking her off the ground, he carried her over into the last stall, which was quite dark at this hour, and pulled her down into the corner.
As he kissed her deeply, his hands started to wander.
The tunic she wore was heavy against the cold morning, but he didn’t try to go through it.
He simply went under it, snaking his hands beneath it until he came to her warm, naked belly.
She flinched when he touched her skin. But instead of pulling from him in fear, she simply let him do as he wished, as his instincts dictated. She didn’t resist.
She wanted it as badly as he did.
Blayth’s hands seemed to have a mind of their own.
He was a red-blooded man, with all of the needs of a man, and there were appetites inside of him that he’d kept repressed.
They hadn’t been fed in any recent memory and now they were beginning to roar.
As he suckled on her lips, he shoved her back into the corner of the stall to trap her, and his hands pulled up her tunic so that it was bunched around her waist as his hands moved to her full, soft breasts.
Both hands clamped down on her breasts and Asmara gasped.
For a brief moment, she tried to push him away, unbalance by the intimate touch, but his hands were warm and gentle, and her body quickly relaxed.
Blayth could feel her trembling beneath his touch as he kneaded her breasts, pinching her nipples.
All the while, his kisses were passionate and heated, and he had a raging erection that had happened fairly quickly.
There was no way he could touch the woman’s delicious body and not react physically to her.
All he could think of was satisfying himself, and of the contentment he would feel buried within her slick folds.
Somehow, he managed to pull her out of the corner and lay her down on the dried grass of the stall.
When she weakly tried to protest, he buried his head beneath her tunic and, in the darkness, his mouth latched on to a tender nipple.
Asmara’s protests died in her throat as he suckled her breasts, giving her pleasure that she’d never known before.
In fact, she was letting him do whatever he wished and hardly uttering a word about it.
Her body, young and strong and virile, was responding to his touch, and when his hands moved from her breasts and found their way into her hose, she still didn’t protest. It appeared she was without thought, without any opinions whatsoever.
All she wanted to do was lay there and enjoy what he was doing to her, and Blayth was more than happy to comply.
He had her where he wanted her.
The skin of her buttocks and thighs was soft beyond measure, warm and inviting.
His big hands gripped her buttocks first, squeezing them as he continued to suckle on her breasts but, before long, he was moving to the intimate junction between her legs.
It was warm and safe and inviting down there and she trembled at his touch, even more when he stroked her with a finger.
But that touch also seemed to awaken her from her haze of passion, for the long legs started to kick and she struggled to pull away from him.
“Nay,” she breathed. “We must not… you must not…”
His response was to suckle her harder. His hand was between her legs even as she tried to move away and he inserted a finger into her love-slick passage.
Asmara gasped aloud at the sensual intrusion and she very quickly succumbed to his touch once more.
Whatever he was doing to her was making her legs tremble, as if she had no control over them.
And as his fingers probed her, the sensations he brought about dashed every thought out of her head.
She couldn’t fight him off, not even if she wanted to.
As she lay there with his hand between her legs, his head emerged from beneath her tunic and he began kissing her again, oh-so-gently.
Between his tender probing and his gentle kisses, Asmara was like mud in his hands.
She had no bones, no will of her own. But that soon came to a startling end when voices were heard.
Men were entering the stables, preparing to feed the animals, and Blayth abruptly stopped what he was doing and quickly yanked Asmara’s breeches up.
She, too, was scrambling to her knees, pulling her breeches up and her tunic down, and Blayth stood up, seeing where the grooms were.
Holding out a hand to Asmara, telling her to stay down and stay quiet, he headed out into the main part of the stable.
He made a preemptive move against the grooms, announcing himself as he came from the darkness.
The grooms were surprised to see him but he pointed to Asmara’s horse, explaining the wound on the hoof that he’d come to tend.
It was a bald-faced lie, but he had to say something.
He then asked for help with the animal, sending one man for hot water and salt, while the other man went to the grain stores to get buckets of oats for the horses.
When the men were out of the stable as they headed about their business, Blayth quickly went to the stall where Asmara was hiding and extended a hand to her.
She took it.
Quietly, he pulled her to her feet, holding her hand in his as he led her back over to her horse.
“One of them has gone for hot water so you can soak the horse’s hoof,” he said quietly, looking to the entry to the stables to see if anyone else was coming in. “You can be here, ready to tend your animal, when he returns.”
He turned to look at her in the growing light of morning only to realize that she was covered in hay and chaff. Swiftly, he began to brush her off, turning her around so he could sweep off the entire backside of her as she quickly moved to do the same on her front half.
“God’s Bones,” she muttered. “I look as if I have slept with the animals. They are going to know what we have been doing!”
Blayth shook his head to dispute her until she pointed at him and he, too, realized that he was covered in chaff. Then he started beating at his own clothing to shake it off, but as he swept and brushed and beat, he began to laugh.
“I do not mind for myself, of course,” he said. “But I would hate for anyone to think ill of you. And it would not be particularly healthy to have it get back to your father.”
Asmara reached out to brush off his left shoulder. “Nay, it would not,” she said. “He would make me go back to Llandarog for certain if he thought… well, if he thought I was compromised in any way.”
Blayth watched her as she finished brushing herself off. “I am not sorry I kissed you,” he said quietly. “I very much wanted to. But the rest of it… if you were uncomfortable, then I apologize. It will not happen again.”
She blushed, finding it difficult to look at him. “If my father found out what we have done, he would probably force you to marry me.”
“Who says I will not?”
The coy smile vanished from her face and she looked at him, eyes wide with shock. “Marriage?” she repeated. “Who has said anything about marriage?”
He chuckled. “You just did.”
“I did not mean it as an offer.”
“I did.”
Asmara had no idea what to say to him. Her eyes were wide and now her jaw was hanging open, genuinely astonished by the words coming out of his mouth. After a moment, she simply shook her head.
“You must be mad,” she finally hissed. “Who would want to marry a woman like me? No man wants a wife who can best him in a fight.”
Blayth cocked an eyebrow. “Who told you that?”
Her father had, but she didn’t want to throw him to the wolves. She shrugged her shoulders. “Everyone knows that. Everyone says it.”
“I do not say it,” he said. “Moreover, you cannot best me.”